Like a Heavy Cross and a Thorn Wreath
by Writer.Anon46
Summary: Sometimes the cross that we bear becomes too heavy and our knees buckle underneath it all. But sometimes, we've become so numb that we continue that uphill walk; just like Quinn Fabray does.


**Pairing:** Quinn Fabray / Rachel Berry

**Genre:** Angst & Drama

**Rating:**G

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine; I'm just borrowing for a bit of fun.

**Like A Heavy Cross and A Thorn Wreath.**

It shouldn't hurt like this.

Actually, it shouldn't be hurting at all. Or at least, that's what I tell myself at night because that's when everything becomes too much for me to handle. My head – at night – isn't a pretty place to find yourself in.

It's a horrible, horrible place where thoughts of inadequacy merge with sinful dreams and I find myself drowning in a sea of unnatural desire – my only hope are the sharks of desperation that circle my broken body; and I pray that it finds itself in their jaws so that an end can be put to this nightmare.

But no amount of crying or screaming or kicking or praying can lift this burden off my chest. It's a heavy cross that I have to carry – day in and day out – and I don't know how much longer I can keep walking. Sure, I have grazed knees from the times that I fell but I managed to get up every single time and most of those times, it was on my own. It's a whole different story now though because that cross just keeps getting bigger and I have borne it for so long that I don't know what it feels like to be free.

What's worse now is that the thorn wreath that I wear on my head whispers Rachel's name, the proverbial blood that trickles from the wounds have stained my face and I can't bear the thought anymore. Because a part of me wants to bear this cross alone but another part of me wants to throw it in the crowd and let the world know who I really am.

I want the world to know that I curl up in my bed and cry for hours as I recall all the mean and spiteful words that they threw at me when I was pregnant. I want the world to know that I spend hours over my toilet throwing up everything that I eat because I can't handle the guilt that plagues my heart whenever I think back to all the insults that escaped my mouth.

But most importantly, I want the world to know that the girl in the mirror with the empty, hazel eyes is a monster and she repulses me; because she has hurt the one person that has silently been there for her.

And I get it now, I really do. But I also get that it's too late.

I missed my chance.

I can only find peace with knowing that – perhaps – I was the trigger for her to write that song and perform it with such emotion that I was scared my facade was going to break right there. I was afraid that my arms would morph into wings and I was this close of letting myself fly and just be _free._

There aren't any excuses and there isn't anything that I can say to defend myself because at the end of the day, I was the one that hurled every single insult at her face and didn't stop even when her eyes shone with tears. I didn't stop kicking her when she was down on the floor and even then she had her hand held out for me to take – a sure offer of friendship.

And I just spat in her face.

So I'll just adjust the mask on my face – the same mask that I tape together every morning because it falls apart every night – and push the wreath harder as my back humps forward even more under the cross' weight.

And I face the world.

Because even though it hurts, she can't hate me.

She can't hate me for pushing her to follow her dreams.

She can't hate me for screaming prayers into the night for her.

Because I may not be the person that she wants me to be and I may not be the person that holds her delicate heart in their arms.

I'm not even the person that she wants to give her heart to.

But I am going to be the faceless girl that she'll talk about in interviews when people ask her what pushed her to go after her dreams.

I'll be the girl clapping the hardest after every show.

And she'll never know.

But it's okay because I'll carry her like a cross and wear her like a thorn wreath on my head...


End file.
